


Warm Milk

by Ellsweetella



Series: Coffee Shop AU [6]
Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: F/M, I obviously have no idea what to do with this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellsweetella/pseuds/Ellsweetella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heavy rain brings her here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Milk

**Author's Note:**

> I will be on a hiatus after this instalment of coffee shop series. Thank you for all the support and love! I will be back in November. It’s a promise. The next chapter after the hiatus will focus more on Aurora and her own issues.

Aurora is asleep in the guest room, blissfully unaware of the huge thunderstorm outside.

Aurora appeared at his doorsteps three hours ago, hugging her bag with tears running down her cheeks.

He panicked and wanted to send her back to her three aunts immediately.

Aurora cried and begged for him to allow her to stay. She didn't want to go home, not where her three aunts are too busy with their own affairs to care for her. They didn't even notice she was gone.

And he couldn't send her away, not in this weather, not when she's this lonely. She's only five. He was glad he told her his address in case anything came up. She is an intelligent young girl (way too intelligent) and managed to find her way here.

So he set her up with a mug of warm milk and whispered bedtime stories to her until she falls asleep curled up against him, with a trail of dried tears on her face.

He calls Mallory when Aurora is asleep and it goes straight to her voicemail.

He leaves a message behind informing her that Aurora is with him and hopes she hears it soon.

He strokes Aurora's hair, his heart aching for the young girl. He can only imagine what she is going through right now. She's lonely, her parents are dead and her three paternal aunts leave her alone, not knowing how to deal with a child.

He knows what she is going through. He was like her too, moving from one relative's house to the other with his brother, never having a proper house to call home.

He admires the five year old and her ability to stay so cheerful and honest despite her circumstances.

He wishes he could be like her.

He wishes.

…

The heavy rain brings her here.

Mallory is soaked, her white blouse sticking uncomfortably onto her skin. It has become translucent, exposing her creamy skin and black bra. Her arms are wrapped around her body, trying to warm herself up.[[MORE]]

"Is she ok?" she asks anxiously, her eyes wide with worry.

"She's asleep," he replies and invites her in.

"I'm sorry. I should have-"

"It's not your fault." It technically isn't, although Diaval can't help but feel that Mallory is somewhat to be blamed.

"It is," she bites out. "I didn't even know that she has ran away."

"She wasn't under your care." Is he trying to comfort her? He doesn't know.

"She should be."

Thistlewit, Flittle and Knotgrass are wonderful people, really, but they are not parent material. They are too selfish and don't think for the child.

Mallory on the other hand, isn't that bad. She is still learning but at least she does show concern for the young girl and takes care of her pretty well, both emotionally and physically.

She is selfish, selfish in wanting to protect both herself and Aurora.

She can't supress the sneeze.

"You will catch a cold." He leads her to the living room and hands her a towel to dry herself up.

"Thanks," she accepts the towel gratefully, thankful for the thin lining of warmth.

The music player is still sitting there, proud and tall. She could almost here the song playing in her mind.

"Can I check on Aurora?" she asks, a little hesitant. It feels as though she has lost the right to be Aurora's guardian. She has failed her niece and sister after all. She promised Leah to protect Aurora but now…

"She's in the guest room."

She enters the room and breathes a sigh of relief when she sees Aurora curled up underneath the thick blanket and fully asleep.

She presses a kiss on her forehead and exists quietly.

"Thank you. It won't happen again, I promise."

"I know." He hands her a set of clothes. "I have drawn you a bath."

"I-"

"Do I have to force you in?" There is a slight teasing edge to his cold words. She takes the clothes and finds her way to the bathroom. She knows his house well, after all, they had spent afternoons and evenings here, talking and laughing.

And she had messed it up again. And again.

Her life is a train wreck. She is always ruining things and she wonders if she can ever get things right.

She peels her clothes off and sinks under the warm water.

Diaval.

She doesn't deserve him, not in a million years and he doesn't deserve the pain and destruction she brings along with her. No one deserves that. No one deserves a coward.

But she loves him, so much.

(And she is afraid that everyone will leave her in the end.)

…..

He warms up the milk and waits for Mallory to finish her bath.

They need to talk. They desperately need to talk.

They need to clear the air of the pain, the hurt and the questions that hang between them.

He loves her and wants to be there for her, for all of the unsaid issues she has but he can't, not when all she does is take a step forward before running away.

She emerges from the bathroom, the ends of her long hair still wet. She is wearing his brown dress shirt and his pair of track pants.

He hands her the mug of warm milk and invites her to take a seat.

She holds the mug, allowing the warmth seep through her palms and into her body. She takes a sip.

"I can't impose on you any longer." She prepares to leave.

"Stay. You can't go anywhere in this weather."

She stares at the milk. "Thank you." She looks up and steadies her gaze. "We need to talk."

She manages to find the courage to say those words.

"We do," he agrees, a little surprised that she is the one who initiates it.

She doesn't know where to start.

"That night…" she blurts. Yes. She has to start with that night. That night that changed the whole course of their relationship.

"What I did… It was…" she tries to explain, to find the words. "I was terrified. I was scared."

"I am not good at relationships, Diaval. I don't know how to be a good  _girlfriend,_ " she winces at that word. "And I panicked. I ran. I chose the easy way out."

He is silent, listening to every word she says.

"It isn't fair to you," she looks at him, guilty.

"What are you afraid of?" Diaval is gentle, as usual. He is always so gentle.

She looks him dead in the eyes. "Me. I'm afraid of myself. What if I… I always mess things up. I am a mess, Diaval."

She fights the tears.

He fights the urge to hold her.

"Do you regret it? That night?" he whispers, afraid yet anticipating her answer.

"No," her answer is short but strong. It conveys everything she wants to say.

"I can understand if you want me to disappear from your life," she continues. "I will leave."

"No. Stay."

Because he loves her and he wants her in his life, even if she's frustrating, even if she brings along pain.

"I can't give you what you want," she whispers, her voice cracking.

"You don't have to," he holds her hand, squeezing her fingers.

She doesn't have to. He realises that in the end, he will always be at the mercy of Mallory, ever since the first day she stepped into the coffee shop.

"What are we, Diaval? What are we?"

That's the question. What exactly are they?

"Anything. We are anything you need us to be. Friends. Lovers. In-between."

"You give me too much," she murmurs. He gives too much. He is too selfless, too kind, too understanding.

"You deserve it."

His fingers brush her cheeks.

"I don't. I'm selfish."

Her breath is warm against his lips.

"That makes two of us."

He cups her face.

"I am scarred."

He cracks a smile and guides her fingers to his scars on his face.

She smiles, a tear rolling down her cheeks.

"What did I do to deserve you?" she caresses his cheek.

Their lips meet, this time without the influence of alcohol.

"We can take it slow, at your pace," he offers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

"I would like that," she smiles.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Her hand is in his, their eyes locked. A comfortable silence dawn on them.

She likes it. This relationship they have now.

She needs to learn how to be brave.

"It's late. You can have my bed." He leaves no room for any protests.

She nods and retreats to the room, where everything reminded her of that night.

She curls up on the bed, pressing her nose against the collar of the shirt.

It smells like him. The room smells like him.

She remembers the feel of the covers curled around their limbs as they made love. She remembers his hands on body, his lips, his heat, his scent.

She imagines his arms around her body.

She walks out to the living room, where he is getting ready to sleep on the couch.

"Join me?" she asks, soft and hesitant.

He takes a long look at her and nods.

They crawl onto the bed, his arms around her, snug and strong.

…

He is making breakfast when she awakes.

Aurora is still in bed, sound asleep.

"Hey," she greets him.

"Hey."

"Thank you, for last night, for taking care of Aurora."

"It's nothing," he shrugs and serves the scrambled eggs.

She sits at the dining table and eats the eggs he serves her.

"What happened to Aurora's parents?" Diaval is the one who starts the conversation rolling.

"They died two years ago, in another car accident. Aurora was with them and was lucky to survive," Mallory tries to be as dispassionate as she could about it.

"Another?" Diaval is sharp enough to catch that word.

"Leah and I… Our parents died in a car crash thirteen years ago," Mallory explains. "May fifteen. A car with two teenagers collided with theirs."

He stills.

May Fifteen 2001.

Which was why she came to him that night, unable to sleep.

His brother, her parents, they died in the same accident.

He can't look at her. He can't look at the pain in her eyes.

He can't.

He tries to say something, anything.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, barely audible.

For what? He doesn't know.

"Thank you," she smiles softly.

"Do you… Do you hate those teenagers?"

She is silent for a moment and his heart halted.

"I know that it isn't their fault. But I can't… I can't forgive them."

"I think I can never forgive them."


End file.
